


Bullet Proof (After Shocks)

by Powrhug



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-28
Updated: 2011-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Powrhug/pseuds/Powrhug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve’s not bullet proof, but maybe him and Danny are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bullet Proof (After Shocks)

STEVE’S POV

As he became aware of his surroundings, his body automatically tightened in fight. Ready to protect himself from the unseen as his senses took over, as the light became brighter around him.

He could tell there’d been an explosion because his head was filled with the aftereffects. Smoke. Vibrations. Pain.

He blinked once, twice, looking up at the new sky where ceiling had once been. Feeling the cold, sticky, metal-strewn floor below him. Blood. There was blood on his hands but he didn’t think it was his own. Was it his? No. The aches were the wrong kind for blood to be external.

His hands clenched into fists as he tried to raise his head just enough to see around him. Acclimate. He needed to get his bearings. Needed to get instinct back and under him enough to survive whatever had happened, what may happen next. Fight not flight. Fight goddamnit.

He swallowed thickly and restrained a cough, unsure yet where he was, what dangers surrounded him. Where the fuck were they?

Think.

He needed to think.

“Danny.” He wasn’t sure if it was a thought or an utterance. But Danny had been there beside him. Before the explosion? No after. He was there after leaning over him.

He’d felt it.

Unseen, Danny had leaned over him, hands running along his body smooth and firm. Testing? Trying to feel if he was injured. He’d said his name then as well before the darkness took him and he was alone again.

His head fell back into place among shards of glass and grit of dirt. Danny was safe. He was fine. Somehow that made it easier.

C’mon c’mon c’mon.

Slowly Steve raised his shoulder enough to gain the momentum needed to turn. Ignoring the pain that shot through his head, his arm, his side. His hand clenched and found his ribcage. Blood.

Maybe it was his blood after all.

He let himself laugh softly, silently at that, ignoring the pain it caused. Damn he was getting rusty. He hoped it wasn’t a bullet, he didn’t have time for that shit. He smiled then, crazy bastard. Stop talking to yourself and get the fuck out of here before they find you. Finish you off.

He struggled to raise his head again toward the light of day above him and stilled. Listening. Aware. Alive.

Danny.

He was there beyond the smoke. But no gunshots, just voices. Danny was safe, he was safe.

Steve slowly crawled toward the sound of his voice.

 

DANNY’S POV

 

Danny would have laughed if there'd been time after his life flashed before him during the explosion that sent him sliding, sprawling. He'd lost count of the number of time that had happened during the short time he'd known Steve. He was just glad it played different scenes each time. Nothing worse than a summer rerun even if your life depended on it.

Fuck that hurt...hurt...at least there's feeling. Proved he wasn’t dead.

Steve. Where the fuck was he? Head down because he wasn't stupid, he rotated his neck, trying to see below, beyond the smoke and confusion raining down on them. Them. He was there. Steve was on the ground next to him.

Danny scrambled to his side, staying low to the ground, ignoring the skittering pain that shot through his hands. His knees. Fuck, glass. There goes his new pants.

Hey now. Hey buddy. Hey.

No gunshots, no nothing. The silence brought him to his knees as his hands reached out to soothe, to calm, to explore the hard planes of Steve's still body.

Danny arched down low and pressed his cheek against Steve's back. Letting out a short sharp sigh in answer to the breathing he found in the body below.

Fuck yeah. Fuck yeah, that's right. Steve?

Steve.

He clapped his hands once in uncontained jubilation as Steve moved beneath him. Barely there. But enough.

Gonna get help, babe. You got that? You hear me? I'm getting help.

Hands lingered briefly on Steve’s lower back, caressing the art he knew was covered just below.

I gotcha, babe. I've got you. You hang on, you got me?

His lips brushed along the damp exposed skin just above Steve's collar. Soft. Sure.

A promise.

I'm coming back. I'll be right back.

He didn't even turn when he heard his name, a low groan from behind him.

Help first.

They had the rest of their lives for everything else.

 

~end~

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LiveJournal 8/7/11.


End file.
